Eating Blowfish
by Miaka Kennyuuki
Summary: Harry Potter was a good boy. Despite his various adventures, ya gotta admit he needs to live a little. Is a certain blond Slytherin the right man for the job?
1. No Thrill LikeWell, No Thrill

Title: Eating Blowfish

Category: Harry Potter

Genre: Action/Adventure/Romance/Humor

Rating: R

Pairings: So far, H/D

Summary: Harry Potter is a good boy. Despite his various adventures, ya gotta admit he needs to live a little. Is a certain blond Slytherin the right man for the job?

Warning: language, slash

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. Belongs to J.K. Rowling.

Notes: The title came from an interesting fact I learned in Biology. Apparently less than a decade ago it was a common practice for daredevils and adventure seekers to go to Japanese restaurants and spend 8 to 10 thousand dollars for cooked blowfish. According to my Biology teacher, blowfish contain mercury, a highly poisonous substance. If cooked correctly, it might not kill you, but mistakes are always made. The thrill seekers eat this 10,000 meal simply to feel the excitement of possibly dying from a simple fish dinner.

Prologue: _No Thrill Like…Well, No Thrill_

_(Draco's POV)_

Life is like a box of chocolates…but most of them are already eaten. Normal, every day people receive this partially eaten box. There are a few who actually get the box intact and then there are the ones who are simply handed an empty box from birth and laughed at. Harry Potter is one of these.

But he doesn't have to be. One thing not many know is that there are two sides to every coin. In the chocolates case, you can actually earn chocolates from life, and fill your box to the brim. The only way to do this is to live life to the fullest. Unfortunately, poor Potter cannot possibly do that while still under the Headmaster's thumb. He might be a good boy, an upstanding citizen, a hero, but that doesn't make him the most exciting person. Rumor had it that Potter was actually pretty dull.

But that's where I come in. Draco Lucius Malcolm Malfoy, at your service (Lucius for my father, Malcolm for my grandfather). As most know, I am what can be considered a junior Death Eater. Sadly, there is actually a club for that. But not only Slytherins occupy it. Hufflepuffs, Gryffindors, and Ravenclaws are just as evil as us if prompted. They wanted to make me president, but I politely declined, with only a few curses and a hex or two.

Anyway, I am going to help Potter. I'm going to bring him into my world, the world of thrills, chills and _real_ adventures. The world of a daredevil. I'd earned my box of chocolates three times over. It was about time he got in on the game. I planned to lend him some of mine.

Now how exactly I'm going to go about this is a totally different story.

**99999999**

_(Harry's POV)_

The Boy-Who-Lived. Harry Potter. Gryffindor's Golden Boy. Three names that I hated. Three names that I couldn't escape. And worst of all, I didn't even like the name Harry. Why couldn't I be named something cool like Alexander or Michael? But no, I just had to be named Harry. Do you know what Harry means? Torment by or as if by constant attack. I must have drawn a bad card in the poker game called life.

Yep, that's me, the bad poker player, the bad life player. And boy did I know it. How many boyfriends and girlfriends had I gone through because I couldn't connect with them on a certain level? All of them left me with the same line. "Do you even know what fun is, Harry Potter?" And worse, I didn't. I didn't know what the appeal of truth and dare was, or why spin the bottle got such raving reviews. I didn't understand, and I didn't play, so therefore I was a stuck up little brat who cared for no one. My romantic encounters have sunk to an all time low because of this.

Once again, life had dealt me some fucked up cards, but hopefully I could figure out what was wrong with that and fix it. I hope.

**99999999**

_(Narrator's POV)_

Draco Malfoy sat in the center of the Slytherin common room, coolly regarding his housemates. Only upperclassmen surrounded him, fellow Slytherins in his 6th year and 7th year. Blaise Zabini sat in a leather armchair beside him, reclining with his Gryffindor boyfriend, Neville Longbottom. (Their story was a strange one we won't go into right this moment.) Theodore Nott lay across the divan curled around his girlfriend, Hermione Granger. The Muggle-born had grown up to be quite the looker, warranting Slytherin's obvious approval. That and she'd thrown Blaise and Neville a wild anniversary party even Draco was hard pressed to recreate.

Other Slytherin's leaned forward attentively as Draco spoke. "Fellow Slytherins, purveyors of all things exciting and different, ambitious and clever ones, I have gathered you today to put forth a request, and a proposition," he said in his clear, smooth voice. "This request and proposition directly affect the Guard's Cherub and the Treasurer's Fairy. With the Lord Snape's permission, they have attended. Do any snakes have an objection?"

"Nay, Prince," the room chorused. Though he was the Prince of Slytherin, he still had to have the approval and permission of the House and Council.

"Good," Draco said, smirking. "Now, on to business. My request has to do with Harry Potter." He ignored the gasps at that statement. "As many have noticed, he is about as fun as watching the Giant Squid and the Whomping Willow have sex on the Gryffindor table."

"Actually, that would be kind of fun," piped in Millicent Bullstrode. Other Slytherins nodded sheepishly. Draco sighed, but conceded the point.

"You may be right. Well, that is beside the point. What I am trying to say is that Potter is dull to the point of watching paint dry the Muggle way, and we simply can't have that," he continued. "In light of this revelation, I request of the Council the House's support in teaching the Boy-Who-Lived the art of truly living."

The House was quiet for a moment, and then a slow murmur rose up. When it died down again, one of the Slytherins whispered in Blaise's ear. He nodded. "The House has spoken. The Council has agreed. The Prince has our blessing. Under one condition."

"Speak," Draco said.

"Potter must be made into one of us. Do not show him life only to take it away. By the end of this endeavor, he must be the consort of a noble Slytherin," Blaise intoned. "Also, something was said of a proposition. Speak, Prince."

"Right, well I was going to propose placing him under our protection for the time being but the Council's condition fully covers that. I thank you." Bowing his head slightly, Draco rose. "That out of the way, General, come forward."

Daphne Greengrass, a 6th year Slytherin girl, came forward. "My Prince," she said, bowing. Behind her stood three 7th years, part of her personal War Council.

"I want the War Council to immediately begin the usual protections on Potter. These will have to be a bit more extreme than what you had to deal with when the Cherub and the Fairy were initiated. This is the Boy-Who-Lived," Draco said. "I trust you understand the gravity of the situation?"

"Of course, my Prince. May the War Council convene until tomorrow? We wish to make plans," the General said. Draco simply nodded. "My thanks, Prince. Come along, snakes." She left the common room.

"Right, then. Fairy, Cherub, try to help Potter prepare for his transition, but do not, under any circumstances, tell him anything. He must not know before hand," Draco continued. "Do you understand?"

"Aye, my Prince," murmured the two Gryffindor's. Blaise nodded to indicate he would make sure his Cherub would follow through, as did Theodore. Draco could count on his Guard and Treasurer.

"Good," Draco said distractedly, thoughts of his plan already buzzing around his head. He was sort of excited about this. He would get the chance to teach Harry Potter a few things about life, and maybe, if he was lucky, learn a few things himself. Plus, though the Council had unknowingly given him advance permission, Draco had already planned for Harry to be the consort of a noble Slytherin. Him.

**999999999**

_(Harry's POV)_

Around 10pm last night, Hermione and Neville had approached me saying some weird stuff about eating blowfish and experiencing life fully or something. It was really weird, and I'd tried to get them to go the Infirmary, but they insisted they were fine. Then Hermione did something even weirder. She threw a book at me.

No, seriously! Hermione Granger, best friend since 1st year, all around non-violent person, had flung a heavy book at me. Then she'd grabbed Neville and took off as if the hounds of hell were at her heels. The last time I'd seen her run like that was when we were in the Department of Mysteries 5th year.

When she was gone, I actually looked at the book she'd thrown. It was called _A More Exciting Life: For People Who Are Denser Than The Average Rock (And Don't Understand When People Ask "Do You Even Know What Fun Is?") Edition 4 _by Sarcasum Muse. What did that mean? Was Hermione trying to tell me something? Not that it mattered. I had a Potions essay due, and didn't really have time to worry about her newest cryptic message.

I wonder if I can find her long enough to tell me what the catalyst property of a Dreamless Sleep Potion is?

**999999999**

**TBC…**

Hey, gang. Sorry for the lost months. I've had severe writer's block, and this is and attempt to clear it. I'll be working on some other stories that need updating while this is up.

Also, DarkNuriko's birthday was Feb.2nd! Congratulations, Nuri-chan!

Miaka


	2. Extreme Broom Flying Part 1

Title: Eating Blowfish

Category: Harry Potter

Genre: Action/Adventure/Romance/Humor

Rating: R

Pairings: So far, H/D, established B/N, Th/Hr

Summary: Harry Potter was a good boy. Despite his various adventures, ya gotta admit he needs to live a little. Is a certain blond Slytherin the right man for the job?

Warning: language, slash

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. Belongs to J.K. Rowling.

Chapter One: _Extreme Broom Flying, Part One_

_(Draco's POV)_

It was time to put my plan into action. My General had already set up her usual protections around my target, and was working on additional ones. It was safe for me to move. According to the Fairy, Harry Potter spent exactly one hour flying every night, usually to calm down from the days stresses or simply for the feeling of freedom it gave him.

It was ten minutes to 5pm now.

I hope you're ready for this, Harry Potter.

**999999999**

_(Harry's POV)_

It was ten minutes to 5pm, about the time I usually went out to the Quidditch pitch for a bit of a fly before dinner. It helped relax me, and today I definitely needed it. In Potions, Snape decided to critique an essay right in front of everyone. And guess whose he picked? Yep, you guessed it! Mine.

Of course, he wasn't happy with it. He pretty much tore it to pieces verbally, then literally. If something was wrong, he told the entire class piece by piece why it was wrong, then spent a moment expounding on my complete and utter stupidity. If something was right, he would claim that I got help from Hermione, and then spent a moment expounding on my complete and utter stupidity.

After a few hours of that, I needed a good fly if not a full body massage and a vacation.

Ah, the vagaries of youth.

**9999999999**

_(Narrator's POV: Sort of Harry's)_

Harry Potter walked onto the Quidditch field, _Firebolt_ in hand, unknowingly followed by Draco Malfoy with his _Nimbus 2001_ in his possession. Harry moved to the center of the pitch and took off his school robes. Underneath he wore a loose red Muggle t-shirt that actually fit him (he'd gone shopping that summer) and whitewashed jeans. His new sneakers were already covered in pitch grass from all the time he spent out there.

Mounting his broom, Harry prepared to take off. He was not expecting someone to call his name. He jumped, got tangled in his broom, and ended up sprawled on the ground. When he finally managed to untangle himself, if not get up, a pale hand was thrust into his face. Surprised, his eyes followed the hand to an equally pale arm, then a familiar pointed face. Draco Malfoy was looking down at him. No surprise there. Draco Malfoy was offering his hand. What the fuck?

"Graceful as always, Potter," Malfoy drawled. Okay, that was familiar. "Need a hand?" Harry stared. "I haven't got all day, Potter."

"W-wha…" Harry stammered. Malfoy glared. Slightly cowed, Harry grabbed his hand and was hauled to his feet. "T-thanks," he mumbled automatically.

"Not a problem, Potter. Though you have to work on your land balance. This isn't the air, you know," Malfoy said, smirking.

"I know," Harry snapped, then scratched his head. Did Malfoy just pay him a veiled compliment about his flying skills? "What are you doing here anyway, Malfoy?"

"It's a free Hogwarts, Golden Boy. I can use the pitch if I wish," Malfoy said. His smirk widened as he mounted his broom. "Do you have a problem with that? Because we can settle it right now."

The Slytherin's word choice immediately riled Harry up. "Fine, Malfoy. A race then?" he snapped.

_Not quite yet, Potter_, Draco thought. "Not something as mundane as that, Potter," Malfoy said, his smirk almost turning into a challenging grin. Almost. "How about a bit of stunt flying? If you even know what that is."

Harry glared. "Of course I do!" _NOT. _"Bring it on, Malfoy!" he said. Draco smirked. You could always count on Potter's hot head.

"All right then, Potter. First ten successful tricks wins. Ready?" he said.

"I was born ready," Harry said. _Damn it. Too many Muggle movies_, Harry thought. "Let's go."

"Right, then. On three, Boy Wonder. One…" Harry mounted his broom. "Two…" Malfoy smirked at Harry in exhilaration as well as surety. "Three!" Both boys kicked off hard from the ground, shooting 50 feet in the air.

"Trick one, Potter!" Draco called, waving a pale hand. When he was sure he had the Gryffindor's attention, he straightened his broom carefully; making sure it was aimed away from anything that would hurt if he crashed into it. He planned to do a simple Quidditch victory stance.

Without warning, Draco hopped up onto the broom, balancing on it with only his feet and straightening himself with his arms spread. He soared along, the gel flying from his hair to free his almost shoulder length blond locks. Now it blew in the wind, emphasizing his speed and direction. When he was sure Potter had seen enough, he dropped himself back in his regular position. No need to scar the poor boy for life. Yet.

"What do you think, Potter? Think you can beat that?" Draco called. Harry looked stricken, as if he'd never seen anything like that before. In truth, he hadn't. He didn't even know there were broom stunts, let alone ones done during Quidditch games. (The World Cup had been pretty boring.)

"Any day, Malfoy," Harry called back, a look of extreme determination settling over his features. Bracing himself, he hopped like he'd seen Malfoy do, and landed on the broom with only his feet. One foot slipped slightly, but he managed to regain his dubious balance.

Draco's heart almost stopped when he saw that Harry could have fallen. He almost reconsidered the whole thing, simply to keep the wizarding world's Savior from breaking his neck, but Harry hadn't learned his lesson yet. Aside from that, Prince or not, going in front of the Council with a failure as large as this one, considering the gravity of his request, could knock him from his seat of power.

That horrible thought in mind, Draco continued. He waited until Harry had reseated himself with a "Take that, Malfoy!" and prepared for his next trick. "Take this, Potter!" He called into the warm summer air. He loosened his lower body, putting all his strength in his arms, and moved them closer to the middle of the broom. What he was about to do was very dangerous, and he hoped Harry had enough raw talent with that broom of his that he wouldn't kill himself. He could just imagine explaining that to the Headmaster. _Sorry sir, but the reason your Golden Boy is splattered on the pitch is because I was showing him extremely dangerous, almost illegal stunt moves for the first time, he tried them, messed up, and plummeted to his death. I think I'll have one of those lemon drops now._

Shaking his head to clear it, Draco pushed himself up on his arms, standing completely vertical on the broom, only upside down. Breathing very carefully, he risked a yell. "Two in one, Potter. Pay attention!" Regulating his breathing, he moved quickly up his broom by his hands. Speed was important with this one. Taking a deep breath, Draco lifted one hand and quickly twisted it around the other with all his strength while twisting his body slightly in the same direction. His lithe form spun around with his wrist, turning him in the opposite direction he'd started in.

Quickly, Draco reseated himself. He smiled. A successful handstand reverse. Morgana, he was good. He turned to see Potter staring at him with a sort of shocked awe. He crossed his fingers. _Please, please, please, Potter. _"I…can't do that, Malfoy. C-could you… blush…show me?" _Thank you, Merlin's lacy bloomers!_ Sighing in relief, Draco quickly rearranged himself and landed. Potter landed beside him.

Draco turned to Harry, and tried not to stop breathing. The Gryffindor's raven's wing hair was tousled and unmanageable as usual, but his eyes were a brighter green, almost glowing like emeralds in the light. His clothes were rumpled, and the red shirt was twisted to reveal just a bit more chest. In short, the poster boy for the Lion's Den looked good enough to eat.

Shaking off his slight distraction, Draco smirked. "So, Potter doesn't know something I know, hmm?" He murmured, watching the boy carefully. "I didn't think it possible."

Harry blushed and glared. "Don't mock me, Malfoy," he growled.

Draco laughed. "Me, mock you? Not at all, Potter. I was merely surprised that the _Guru of the Broomstick_ that _Witch Weekly_ claims you are didn't know something as well known as extreme broom flying," he drawled. Harry looked indignant, but a slow smile soon spread across his face.

"You subscribe to _Witch Weekly_?" He asked, grinning. A faint blush rose on Draco's pale cheeks, an answer in itself. Harry laughed.

"Shut it, Potter, if you want to learn anything," Draco snapped. Harry went silent. "Good. Now mount your broom. I'm about to teach you how to live a little…"

They never did make it to dinner.

**999999999**

_(Harry's POV)_

Who would have thought that Draco Malfoy, poster boy for the Junior Death Eaters Association (JDEA, Hogwarts Chapter), was into extreme wizarding sports? Who would have thought there _were _extreme wizarding sports? I certainly didn't. And the things that blond could do with his broom. Wow. Ron would love this.

But I can't tell him. He _hates _Malfoy with a passion that rivals his secret love for Hermione. I could hear him now. _He's trying to trick you, Harry! He's evil, evil I tell ya! He's one of You-Know-Who's Death Eaters! Don't you see, Harry? Everyone's out to get you! Don't be a bloody idiot! _Well, fuck you, Ron! Whoops, getting angry at your imagination isn't good. What was it Hermione said? _Hearing voices isn't a good thing, Harry. Even in the wizarding world. _Kinda makes you wonder, huh?

I really do hope this isn't one of Malfoy's ploys to get me in trouble or lead me to the Dark Lord. This stunt thing looks exciting. And truth be told, Malfoy looks pretty exciting too. Kinda makes me wonder what else he can show me.

Well, he's offering to instruct me in this for a week. I really want to do it. For some reason, I trust him in this. If nothing else, I'll tell Hermione all about it. For now, I think I'll take a leap for once.

"All right then, Malfoy. Teach me."

**9999999999**

_(Draco's POV)_

Potter agreed. Amazing. Of course, it was what I was hoping for, but a Slytherin isn't supposed to get their hopes up. Rule #45 of _Snape's Rules for Surviving Slytherin without Embarrassing Us to the Point Your Gonads Need to Be Removed (Or Something Equally As Painful for Females) _by Polonius Severus Lucien Snape the 3rd. Anyway, we've been at it for a week, and I've managed to teach him a forward and backward handstand, a handstand reverse, a handstand reverse double, a catwalk (forward and backward), a handstand somersault (and the same, with a reverse), a two armed split, a one armed split, handstand split (one or two armed), a one armed handstand reverse, broom trust 101, a triple stationary back flip,(one of my favorites) the personal savior, and the dive and glide.

Potter was a fast learner and a bit reckless, exactly the composition needed for someone planning to do half the things I was doing that first day. From what I could see, _Operation: Get Potter a Life_, _Sub-operation: make him mine_ was going very well.

I guess raw talent really could make up for actual skill.

**999999999**

**TBC…**


	3. Extreme Broom Flying Part 2

Title: Eating Blowfish

Category: Harry Potter

Genre: Action/Adventure/Romance/Humor

Rating: R

Pairings: So far, H/D, established B/N, Th/Hr

Summary: Harry Potter was a good boy. Despite his various adventures, ya gotta admit he needs to live a little. Is a certain blond Slytherin the right man for the job?

Warning: language, slash

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. Belongs to J.K. Rowling

Chapter Two: _Extreme Broom Flying (cont.)_

_(Narrator's POV)_

It was Sunday morning, five days since Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter had met on the pitch that fateful Tuesday evening. It was once again ten minutes to 5pm, and both boys could be seen strolling onto the field, broomsticks over their shoulders. They'd been meeting for a week straight, same time, same place. Harry had improved immensely, and today was to be a test of his skills. A repeat of the challenge Malfoy had issued on Tuesday.

Both boys reached the center of the Quidditch pitch at the same time, eyeing each other speculatively and competitively. "What are you doing here anyway, Malfoy?" Harry began, already knowing that somehow, their earlier meeting had to be recreated.

"It's a free Hogwarts, Golden Boy. I can use the pitch if I wish," Draco said. He smirked in anticipation and mounted his broom. "Do you have a problem with that? Because we can settle it right now."

Harry grinned. "Fine, Malfoy. A race then?" he snapped.

Draco couldn't help but grin slightly back. "Not something as mundane as that, Potter," he said, grin challenging. "How about a bit of stunt flying? If you even know what that is."

Harry smiled wicked, definitely different from before. "Of course I do." He waved a hand nonchalantly, a little trick he'd learned from Draco."Bring it on, Malfoy," he said. Draco smirked. It was just like old times. Or not so old times. And without the obvious malice. He was definitely getting somewhere. Both boys shed their school robes, revealing light, easy to move in Muggle clothes perfect to stunt in.

"All right then, Potter. First one to ten points wins. Ready?" he said.

"I was born ready," Harry said. "Let's go." _Serious case of amusing déjà vu, here._

"Right, then. On three, Boy Wonder. One…" Harry mounted his broom. "Two…" Malfoy smirked at Harry in exhilaration, but this time for the show he was sure they would both put on. "Three!" Both boys kicked off hard from the ground, shooting 50 feet in the air.

Draco did a few twists and loops, excitement like he'd never felt bubbling in his veins. He'd practiced this with Blaise, of course, and they had a few stunt trophies under their belts from over the summer, but he'd always known that Blaise wasn't his true stunt partner. (He'd made Blaise practice with Theodore, since the Fairy and Cherub didn't really like the whole broom concept.) That person was out there, somewhere, waiting. And it seemed he'd found him.

"Handstand reverse!" Draco called, as they'd agreed. To make it fair, the one about to do a trick had to announce the trick they planned on doing so that the other could watch to see if it was done properly so it could count. Quickly doing a repeat of the trick that had grabbed Harry's attention Tuesday, Draco pushed himself up to balance on his arms, spun himself around with the complicated wrist maneuver, and reseated himself, then flipped his legs over his broom and turned himself so he was back in his original position. "Complete!"

"Counts! One!" Harry called, flying closer to Draco. "Backward Catwalk!" He loosened his lower body much like Draco had, and thrust up with his arm muscles, but instead of continuing with a handstand, he hopped up onto the broom and balanced himself with his arms spread out. Now came the tricky part. Harry put one foot behind him until he felt the bristles of the end of the broom. Spinning in a soldier's 180, he took one careful step backward on the broom, and it wobbled. Sucking in a harsh breath, he waited until it steadied. Once he was sure it was safe, he walked confidently across the broom and back, turning around again and reseating himself heavily. Grinning at Draco, he yelled, "Complete!"

Grudgingly, Draco admitted that his backward catwalk had been pretty good. "Counts! Two!" he called. Harry's catwalk had been good, but what Draco was about to do was better. "One arm handstand split!" His voice echoed faintly in the warm summer air, as he prepared for one of his more flashy tricks. It didn't take long. He performed the motions of a handstand, quickly standing his body vertical on the broom (remember, through all these tricks, the broom is still moving fast in some direction or other), then spread his legs completely horizontal to the ground. He was pretty limber for a guy who thought ballet was a tad sissy.

After a few moments Draco brought his legs back together and reseated himself comfortably. "Complete!" he called. Harry nodded and looked thoughtful.

"Counts! Two!" he said. Draco smiled. He now had three points and Harry only had two. Maybe this next trick would make up for it. There were some that were worth four, five, and even six. "Handstand somersault!" Harry called. Draco's eyes widened. That was one the Golden Boy hadn't quite mastered yet.

Harry pushed himself into a handstand, walked himself to the front of the broom, then tensed. He always got a little scared at this part. Breathing deeply, he lowered his hands a bit, then sprung himself straight into the air, somersaulted, and landed heavily on his hands near the broom end. The broom wobbled, scaring Harry a tad, and causing him to sit down quickly to straighten it. Luckily, it wouldn't count against him, though he never did learn how to land lightly. "Complete," he breathed, grinning slightly.

Draco scowled, while inside he was smiling. Harry had done it, and without killing himself! "Counts! Two!" he called, giving Harry a total of four points to his three. He decided he need to get ahead quick. "One armed handstand reverse!" Deciding to do this quickly, he pushed himself onto one hand, wobbling a bit at all the weight he was subjecting his wrist to. Much like Harry's somersault technique, Draco had to lower his hands a bit to give himself room to push. Throwing himself away from the broom with one hand while carefully twisting, Draco spun his body slightly to assist him. Turning on one wrist was hard but doable. Once he was turned around, he decided to add an extra flair for extra points. "Backwards Reseat Add!" he called, adding on to his trick. Harry nodded, acknowledging it.

Draco allowed his body to lean in the direction of the broom end, bending backwards until his feet touched the broom. Allowing them to slide past, Draco slithered into his new backward position. He quickly turned around. Harry was looking at the ground, pissed. A tad annoyed that Harry was ignoring him and had missed his stunt, Draco looked angrily at the ground…and smothered a gasp. Almost the whole of Hogwarts was gathered directly under them, watching with rapt attention as the two rivals battled it out with amazing stunts.

"Complete!" Draco barked, scowling.

"I bloody saw it!" Harry snapped, ignoring the grumbling boy. "Counts! Three!" Draco was surprised Harry was even continuing. From various small arguments and conversations over the past week, he'd realized that Harry truly hated the whole Savior of the wizarding world thing, and absolutely loathed attention. This continuance was most likely an angry wish to finish, not showing off.

"Personal savior!" Harry called out, ignoring the crowd below him as he turned his broom toward clearer airspace. With his last stunt he'd almost reached the Gryffindor Tower peak. Draco held his breath as he watched Harry. The personal savior was pretty dangerous, and doing it out of anger wasn't safe. Hopefully his anger would fuel his speed and he'd be back on his broom in no time.

Draco's wishes were, for the most part, answered. Harry gripped the broom handle tightly with one hand and threw himself to the side, off the broom. His body swung rapidly, slowing slightly as Draco had taught him to give a better view, then swung back up and over the other side of the broom, reseating heavily. It took all of five seconds. "Complete!" Harry called.

"Counts! Three!" Draco called, putting Harry back in the lead with seven points. He needed to do a four pointer quickly. Unfortunately, there wasn't any he had mastered that didn't require a partner. He would have to settle for a three and hope Harry didn't ace his next stunt. "Triple stationary back flip!" he said loudly. Without waiting for Harry's acknowledgement, and ignoring the cheers of the crowd, Draco stood on his broom and walked to the edge. Positioning his feet carefully, the broom stopped. Contrary to popular belief, when a broom wasn't moving was when it was more dangerous.

Taking a deep breath, Draco began. He performed one perfect back flip, landing in the same position he'd started in, then quickly did the next one. Right off the back of the broom. Now here came the tricky part. As his body fell past the broom end, he grabbed it with one hand and used his arm to propel himself under the broom. He flipped again, this time completely upside down, released his hold and grabbed another at the front of the broom, and used this new hold to swing himself back into a seated position. His speed was the only thing that allowed him to do that. The crowd went wild. "Complete, Potter!"

Harry flew slowly around him, the air of excitement coming back into his jade eyes. Ignoring the crowd, he smiled at Draco challengingly. "It counts, Malfoy. Three," he said. Draco almost smiled back in amusement. "Now to show these nosy rejects a thing or two," Harry whispered viciously, smirking. "Broom trust 101, Malfoy!" Draco stared at the raven haired boy as if he'd been hit with a botched Obliviate. Did he just say he was doing the most difficult and dangerous move Draco had taught him? Even Blaise was only willing to do this move if they were in danger of losing a tournament!

"Um, Potter? I don't think this is the best idea right now. I think I see a few Professors in that mob," Draco said, almost pleadingly.

"What, Malfoy, scared I'll beat you?" Harry called, laughing and flying a quick loop.

"Not particularly, Golden Boy. But I really don't need my arse expelled for teaching you dangerous moves. I might be sent to Azkaban on charges of assisted suicide or something equally infantile," the blond snapped. Harry ignored him, flying up about 100 feet above the pitch.

"Too bad," Harry whispered, and leapt off his broom. As he did this, he managed to throw the broom like an arrow in front of him, so that it was going slightly faster toward the ground than his own body. The breath froze in Draco's throat as he watched the Gryffindor dive bomb, his broom only a few inches in front of him. 20 feet above his assuredly gruesome death, Harry streamlined his body, picking up speed, and drew level with his broom. Grabbing it ten feet from the ground, he put it under his feet and surfed it to the ground. With the added cushioning of the broom's magic, Harry slowed considerably, and was able to tumble harmlessly on the pitch. The crowd immediately rushed to him.

In the air, Draco was gasping. That Potter boy was a complete psycho, to even think of trying out a move for the first time, and in front of a huge crowd. But really, how could he expect any less from the Boy-Who-Lived?

As the crowd swarmed Harry potter, Draco flew into the shadows and disappeared into the Castle.

**9999999999**

**TBC…**


End file.
